


The Selfless Act of Carver Hawke

by falsettos



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, VERY SLIGHT mention of Carver Hawke/OC's, past and one sided Cullen Rutherford/Female Surana, you will miss it if you blink I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsettos/pseuds/falsettos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver had always been rather selfish. Someone who focused on self-preservation. Which is why he shocked himself when he risked his life for none other than the Knight Captain of Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Selfless Act of Carver Hawke

**Author's Note:**

> Hi oh my god. I can't believe I'm writing this. I never thought I'd upload a fanfic. Word of warning, this is my first fanfic that I'm uploading.
> 
> If you haven't left because of that, hey :D
> 
> But hey, thanks for taking a chance. If you have any suggestions please please please leave them in the comments. I love constructive criticism, and would love it all. Even if you have all bad things please tell me xD. I'll say more at the end but please enjoy :D :P
> 
> Oh and it's sorta of an AU. Instead of a year after the blight when they go into the deep roads it's two before they start saving money. And Cullen is already the Knight Captain. 
> 
> // my friend sorta betaed it, but eh. so word of warning my grammar is not the best, but it's not horrid either \\\

Carver always knew he was selfish. Sometimes he was selfish in small ways. Such as taking the last sweet that Garrett had been promised, or teasing Bethany to look better in front of his friends. However there were times when Carver was also selfish in much larger ways. Those he preferred to push to the back of his mind like he did all bad memories, as sometimes the easiest way of dealing with things was to simply _not_ deal with them. These larger selfish deeds had of course started with smaller selfish acts. Those smaller actions had spiraled out of control; like a snowball rolling down a hill, unable to stop, picking up momentum with every second. Until, it was a giant beast and whomever or whatever it crashed into would face dire consequences at no fault of their own.

 

So what surprised Carver the most, was how selfless he was being right now. His sword drawn, his teeth bared, protecting someone _else_. The man whom he was protecting, was one that did not normally need to be protected either, one that actually had a chance of surviving this seemingly bleak situation. Carver still couldn’t believe what he done. How he had hidden from view waiting to see if the man was okay. How, when the man had fallen, Carver had leaped out of the shadows, sword drawn to protect him.

 

The man was Knight Captain Cullen, someone who (in retrospect) Carver really shouldn’t like. The Knight Captain was currently (at least what appeared to be) passed out. He did not appear dead however, as the cut, (although a rather large slash across his abdomen), had miraculously missed any vital organs. (The only reason Carver knew where vital organs even were was because of Garrett’s constant talk about healing and what to avoid, something Carver really should thank him for, but never would).  And although the Knight Captain had other cuts littered across his body, as well as burns and bruises, he didn’t _seem_ dead, was still breathing from what Carver could tell. And for some odd reason, Carver secretly hoped he was infact _alive_.

 

There were about half a dozen people who surrounded him now, staves, blades, and arrows all trained on Carver, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Yet… they were not. A man with a longsword seemed to be in charge. Standing taller than the rest, with better armor and a weapon crafted much finer than his comrades. The two mages in the group, (an impressive number, Carver couldn’t help but think), also appeared to have an air of superiority around them. But this may have just been simply because they wielded magic. One of the mages, a surprisingly beautiful brunette, (whom if Carver had met at a bar would be mercilessly flirting with), had a fireball ready to be thrown, but was not in fact throwing it. The other mage, a rather short male, (who may have been a elf considering his ears were hidden from view under a grey cloak), had a similar attack ready, but it seemed to be ice rather than fire. Both of them kept their spells up, ready to fire, but yet their hands seemed rather relaxed. If Carver had not been alone he would have considered taking them out then, as chances are they wouldn’t have a chance to fire back.

 

The man with the large blade was the only one not at least seemingly ready to attack (if you could even say the others were “ready”), in fact, he had sheathed his sword when Carver had intervened. All of the half a dozen that surrounded Carver were scanning him up and down, seemingly trying to decide if he was friend or foe. After a minute or two, the male mage signaled to the man with the large sword with a curt nod. Seeing the nod towards the main warrior, the female mage seemed to ease a little, in fact, all the attackers did.

 

“Why do you protect him?” The brunette mage began to question. Carver turned his body slightly to get a clearer view of her, (slowly to avoid unwarranted attack), and noticed her eyes first. Green, _fade_ green, piercing through him like a perfectly sharpened blade. The greened eyed girl also seemed to have a rather strange face now that he looked her over, her features seemed out of place somehow. A sharp nose, yet rather pudgy face. Small eyes, yet large irises. The mage’s features did not seem to fit together at all. Almost as though someone had thrown her together in mere seconds, and sent her out into the world.

 

 _Maker’s breath, even if she about to attack you, you don’t need to be so rude._ Carver scowled at himself, but continued to study her, and as he did, she began to speak once more: “We have seen you, we know you hang around with many a mage, yet here you stand risking your life for a templar, why?”

 

The realization almost made Carver wince. He was risking _his_ life for a templar, those who had forced his family into hiding, caused countless nights gone starved in Kirkwall simply because _no_ real organization wanted a warrior with mage ties, too risky they said. Not to mention Aveline had insured he would never join the guard, leaving that out of the question. Yet, here Carver was, risking his life for a templar. Carver who was selfish beyond belief, Carver who had performed countless misguided deeds because of his blinded need to self preserve at all costs, even when the cost had more dire than truly necessary.

 

Maybe it was because he had chatted with this particular templar before. The Knight Captain had been awfully kind, even ignoring the fact that his brother was obviously a mage. (Or maybe he simply hadn’t noticed, though that Carver found hard to believe. As much to Carver’s dismay he carried around an obnoxiously large staff strapped to his back). When Carver had asked him questions about the templar order (in a rather aggressive fashion), the man had replied with only a polite tone and answers. Yet, he was still a templar. In fact, he was almost top templar, behind only Knight Commander Meredith.

 

“He’s not the one who causes the cruelty to mages that happens in the circle, in fact,” Carver added as an afterthought: “he tries to stop it.” Carver spoke in reference to something the Knight Captain had once told him.

 

Carver had inquired as to why the Knight Captain had become a templar, curious as to why he would give himself up to an order. The Knight Captain had not even frowned at Carver’s rude wording, and instead explained in the utmost courteous manner. Saying how he hadn’t grown up knowing many mages, but had seen one mage, a friend of his, become a demon. How he had vowed that day to protect mages anyway he could. And he honestly believed the way to do that was to teach people how to properly use magic. The Knight Captain believed as someone must be taught to properly use a blade, someone must be taught the same with magic, but that magic was more dangerous in that sometimes it had a mind of it’s own. _Whereas a blade can always be controlled,_ he had once said, _magic cannot._

And although Carver would never admit it to Garrett or any of his colorful bunch of companions, he felt inclined to agree. His father Malcolm Hawke had been in the circle, and had a natural teaching talent, which had greatly helped both Bethany and Garrett in mastering their magic. Yet he could still remember times when he had to narrowly dodge a fireball that Bethany had lost control of, or the times when he could hear Garrett being reprimanded by their father for hurling a rock with too much force. Carver couldn’t even begin to imagine a mage trying to master their magic without the circle. Without anyone there to teach them at all, and had begun to understand why the circle (at least in some form) was a necessity.

 

The male mage from the group of attackers whispered something to a woman with a bow and arrow, who in turned whispered to the man with a sword and shield, then to the female next to him with the double blades, until it had gotten back to the male mage. Who at this point, had an unrecognizable facial expression. Carver could not tell if it was anger, loathing, sadness, or none of those. The mage could have been considering the best way to hurl a ice shard at Carver and he would not have been the wiser.

 

“Explain,” a black haired female finally grunted. Carver paused, knowing he didn’t have long to think. At any moment, a spark could fly into his neck, an arrow could pierce his heart, and the chances of this happening increased with every passing second. And even though Carver was sure if he just shook his head and said he was wrong, let them get to the Knight Captain, then they would let him go. They may even give him a sovereign or two to keep his mouth shut, (money he could definitely use). Yet, he wanted to do something, anything, to save the man he was currently protecting. And so began his attempt at a passion speech, Carver however, never really had a way with words.

 

“Well ya see, you’re all right. I do hang out with mages, I assume you’re not templars, so my brother is a mage. My sister was a mage,” Carver inwardly frowned at the thought of Bethany. “But he’s the bloody best templar I’ve seen. Not one of those posh bastards who uses mage’s as playthings. He actually cares yeah? Is tryna do what’s best for them… the mages I mean,” Carver added for clarification.

 

Once again, a whip around of whisper began. This time however, felt a lot longer than the first one did. Each person seemed to take minutes upon minutes to think before whispering, and as they leaned towards their fellow’s ear, it looked like slow motion to Carver. He wondered if they were trying to spite him, or it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Carver may have even found the whole situation humorous if his heart’s thumping was not increasing with every second the attackers spoke. Finally, the man with the finely crafted longsword spoke.

 

“‘s not that we don’t believe you boy, because we do. We’ve been watchin’ you and your brother a little bit. Seem like good enough people. Honest enough in your intentions…” there was a pause. “But he’s a templar, and it’s our duty to kill those bastards.” The man hissed the last part, as though someone had just stabbed him and he was attempting to act like he had felt nothing. The man also had a rather shiny sounding voice. It reminded Carver of silver, and he couldn’t help but to compare it to the silver locket he had once found in the woods near Lothering. Of course, this only brought up a subtle feeling of bile rising up his throat before the words just said sunk in.

 

“Now if you’d just be a good lad and step aside, no one ‘ill get hurt… well, except for ‘im of course.” This caused light laughter to litter around the group, and Carver to feel his heart tighten in his chest. The man with the silver voice began to bring his hand to the hilt of his blade, and Carver knew now was the time to leave. _You’ve been brave enough,_ he thought. _Selfless enough for another year. You should leave, your life is not worth a sodding templar._ But even as he was about to comply, to put one foot in front of the other and move out of the way of the man’s way, he couldn’t. Carver’s brain was screaming: _Move!_ But something was keeping his feet firmly planted. It reminded Carver of times when he would tell himself to cough in his head, just tell himself, yet nothing came out. As though his brain knew he secretly didn’t want to.

 

“We’re warning you lad,” another spoke. This one, a female with double daggers, had a rather large scar running down the side of her cheek. It was deep, an almost red color. And the smartass in Carver made him want to tell her she should get it checked out. “just move if ya know what’s good for ya.”

 

“No. I won’t. He hasn’t done anything. It’s not fair. You can’t kill him.” Carver wasn’t even sure the words were his own. He knew by now, (after years of living and speaking), that you didn’t really think before you spoke. Words just flowed out of you like water streaming down a river. But _those_ words he had not even expected to say. The man with the silver voice scoffed, and spit to the side. _An intimidation tactic_ , Carver thought. _Subtle, but intimidation none the less. He isn’t sure he’s going to kill the Knight Captain._ That spit gave him confidence to keep talking. Maybe it was just Carver overthinking things like usual, but he needed to bring out the small part of him that was diplomatic, appeal to his empathic side.

 

“You obviously hunt the bad templars yeah? This isn’t a bad templar. He’s one of the only who’s- who still gives a shit about the mages yeah? If you kill him… shit, the mages will really have no one.” The speech, although containing profanity, was sort of diplomatic. More so than Carver had expected it to be. Bethany had always been the diplomatic one in the family, Garrett the charming funny one, and Carver the one with too much anger and not enough grace.

 

Once more, a whip around of whispers began it. _Bloody hunters,_ Carver began to think in annoyance. _Can’t just go talk in a corner like normal people._ By the time it was finished, Carver had cursed them out with almost every word he could think of, (which was a lot). It was a coping mechanism, a strange one perhaps, but a way to cope with anger none the less. In what seemed like a flash, the man with the silver voice had pulled out a small dagger and held it to Carver’s neck. Carver began his prayers to the Maker and Andraste, _if I live through this I won’t mock Garrett for his crush on the glowing elf, and I’ll learn how to not curse so much, and and- oh Maker just please let me live yeah?_ Carver’s prayers were cut off by the silver voiced man’s hisses.

 

“If you are wrong, if this-” the silver voiced man looked at a loss for words at for a mere moment. “Templar-” he finally spat. “-so much as looks at a mage the wrong way… we’ll find him like this again, and no one will be able to save him.” The blade centimeters away from his throat told him to swallow his pride and nod. But that wasn’t who Carver was.

 

“I’ll kill him my sodding self is he does, that I promise you.”

 

“Good,” the silver voiced man smiled, and Carver wasn’t too shocked to see he had a single metal tooth in the front. Shiny and silver. Just like the man’s voice. Putting the dagger back into his belt, the leader turns towards his companions, only to begin speaking in a language that was vaguely familiar. _Orlesian? Antivan?_ Carver had never been the best at languages, the words would get jumbled to him, all melting together like cheese in a pot. If Garrett had been with him, he probably would have made a joke in whatever language they spoke. Garrett had always been good at languages, good at everything actually. As soon as the man with the longsword finished speaking, the attackers sheathed their swords, put away their arrows, and extinguished their magic before briskly walking away from Carver and the Knight Captain.

 

Now Carver wasn’t sure what to do. The Knight Captain was unconscious, and although Carver was rather strong, he didn’t think he could carry the Knight Captain. He could try to find Anders, they were already somewhat close to clinic, (it was where he had been headed after all, before this had happened and he slunk into the shadows to watch). But that would require leaving the Knight Captain alone, and that would not work out very well. Running through all possible options in his head, he realised the only thing he could truly do is camp out till he woke. Not the best choice, but the safest. And Carver did not want his one truly selfless act to go to waste because he had run to find Anders to see when the man would wake.

 

Using his limited knowledge of medicine, Carver attempted to examine the Knight Captain. Sadly, he hadn’t been wearing his full armor. A stupid decision on his part as it had almost cost him life. If Carver had not been happen to be passing by… He shuddered to think about it. The wound, wasn’t as deep as he thought though. In fact, it just looked long. Carver suspected the Knight Captain simply hadn’t been prepared, and that along with the other damages to his body it had been too much.

 

Slumping against the wall, the first five or so minutes were fine. He mused over the finer points of the conversations, wondering what could have happened, and what did happen. Then when that was over, other thoughts began to creep into his head. Specifically, that of Bethany.

 

Bethany was his biggest regret, if only he hadn’t been so damn selfish… When Garrett had asked someone to guard mother, Carver should have been the one to do it. He was the warrior, mages don’t guard. Yet, when Bethany volunteered, he did not protest. Did not think of the danger to her… He felt almost sick as vivid images flashed before his mind. Bethany’s yell to the maker as she lunged at the orge, her body, already almost lifeless, being slammed to the ground. Again, and again, and again…

 

Carver looked around for _anything_ else at all to think about. His eyes of course, landed on the passed out man beside him. Carver looked him up and down. Blonde curly hair, fine nose, rather tall. He was attractive in every sense of the word. Carver was a little shocked he thought so.

 

Lothering was a small town, there weren’t many people his age, let alone ones who were attracted to him. Carver had lost his virginity to a girl name Peaches, and had twice had fallen into bed with a girl at the local tavern, but had never been with a man Nor had he ever found a man particularly attractive. Well, until now.

The Knight Captain looked young too. About Carver’s age, expect… he looked more worn out than Carver. The bags around his eyes were prominent, even resting, his face looked as though it could uses days more of sleep. Carver felt a sudden stir of empathy, something he didn’t feel very often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he _had_ felt it. How could someone almost the same age as him, look so damn tired? Carver noticed that the Knight Captain’s hair must have fallen in front of his when he had tumbled over, and Carver felt the urge to push it out his face. Reveal the Captain’s face just a little more for his viewing pleasure.

 

 _Sodding hell,_ Carver cursed. _You better not have risked your life for just a pretty face!_ He felt guilty right after he spoke. The Knight Captain was _not_ just a pretty face. Even from their small conversations, Carver could tell he had been through a lot. He had been at the Ferelden Circle during the blight, few had survived, and those who did told horror stories and suffered terrible stress. Realising he had called him Knight Captain the whole time, Carver felt he was being too damn formal, even internally. Carver racked his brain for his name, all that Carver remembered was it was a rather lovely name, and also began with a C. _Cameron… Connor… Cullen!_ It was Cullen. How could he have forgotten?

 

Carver began to distract himself with the stories Cullen had told him, it kept his mind away from Bethany, and that was what mattered. In fact, he found himself almost smiling as he thought. Even as he sat in the dark on the dirty floor with a passed out man. A period of time passed. It may have been an hour or five, though most likely, it was about ten minutes. All Carver knew was he heard a groan. Quickly turning his head, he watched as Cullen struggled to sit up, and just as Carver was about to help, he had pushed himself into a sitting position.

 

“I-I’m alive,” Cullen seemed rather shocked, and Carver could understand why. He was sure Cullen’s last thoughts were prayers to the Maker and Andraste. Cullen seemed in awe, turning his head to look around, his eyes staying on Carver as soon as they landed there. “You’re the one who always asks me questions? Serah Carver right?”

 

“Yeah that’s me. Carver…” _Oh maker_ , he was embarrassing himself already.

 

“Thank you, I-” Cullen sucked in a breath, a lopsided smile appearing on his face. “I’m not sure how I can repay you. You- you saved my life.”

 

“No need to thank me, that’s what I do. Save random templars.” Carver was not the charming one, that was Garrett, and he was currently failing miserably in his attempts to be somewhat charming, (like usual). But somehow, Cullen didn’t seem to mind, and began to push himself up, before wincing and falling back down. Carver must of had a look of concern on his face, because Cullen shook his head before reassuring him.

 

“Honestly I’ll be fine if you just… could help me get up.” Cullen seemed embarrassed to ask for help, but Carver quickly obligated before he could take it back. Hoisting him up rather too quickly. Cullen was a little shaky, but overall seemed fine.

 

“Thank you again…” Cullen paused, as though thinking carefully before speaking once more. “If you need payment or anything I have some sovereigns-” Cullen began to reach into a small bag he had hidden.

 

As tempting as the offer was, Carver couldn’t take his money. Which was strange, because that meant Carver’s act had truly been that of kindness. Which was so unlike Carver, it shocked him. For most people, Carver would have taken the money, and then proceeded to threaten them for more money. However, he didn’t want to do that at all, in fact, the idea almost repulsed him.

 

“No it’s alright. I don’t mind.” Cullen shook his head in what seemed like disbelief.

 

“You’re too kind serah… I insist though, please just-” Cullen’s hand held out coin. It was right there, waiting to be taken. Yet Carver’s hand did not even begin to reach for the sovereigns. At this moment, Carver saw that Cullen did have a rather noticeable limp, and it was dark. Someone would undoubtedly attack him, and try to take the money he had just offered Carver. He could not let that happen.

 

“Let me walk you back the Gallows and then we’ll talk about it then yeah?” Carver wasn’t sure what he was doing. He still needed Anders to heal a cut on his arm, though, he was almost certain it was too late for a clean heal now.

 

“I-”

 

“Just let me help yeah?” Cullen frowned slightly, yet nodded anyway. Taking Cullen’s arm and putting it around his shoulder, he began to help him move. Kirkwall was a rather large city, and it’d be a long walk to the Gallows. At least a few miles.

 

They began to move. After Cullen once again profusely thanked him, a silence began. There wasn’t much to be said after all, what could you really say about what just happened? But slowly, the silence began to kill Carver. Kirkwall looked very similar in some parts, and the scenery was awfully boring. Not to mention, they (somehow) hadn’t been jumped. And as they walked, questions about Cullen began to come to Carver’s mind. Questions concerning Ferelden, and the small yet noticeable scar above his lip. Carver was about to push the thoughts away when the words came tumbling out like a boulder going down a hill, unstoppable once it began.

 

“You’ve spoken about the Ferelden circle before but never what actually happened…” Carver posed it more as a statement then a question, hopefully that would let him shrug it off easier if he preferred not to speak of it. Carver didn’t speak of Ostagar too often, and wasn’t about to attempt to push Cullen into something similar, as tempting as it was. When Cullen grimaced, Carver wished he could travel back a few seconds and tell himself to shut it. But Cullen began to speak anyway.

 

“You did save my life, might as well explain…” Cullen took a deep breath, blowing some hair out his eyes before continuing. “When the abominations took over they purged the majority of the templars. All of those who didn’t escape were killed except one person. Kept in a cage he was… trapped watching his fellows die...” Cullen’s voice dropped it a whisper, as though he was telling himself more than Carver. “I was the survivor... me.” He spoke the last words as if it was unbelievable even to him, and it may well have been.

 

Although Cullen as avoiding eye contact, Carver needed a way to signal his condolences. If he were to say something along lines of a sorry, he’d most likely end up cursing or in some other way coming out as rude. For once, Carver was actually concerned with how someone may perceive his words. Unsure of what to do, gave a sad nod, and mumbled a “sorry” under his breath, mentally cursing at himself for being so damn insensitive.

 

“It was the Hero of Ferelden who saved me. Neria Surana…” The name was said with a particular sadness. As though he had been close to Neria… and he may well have been. Carver had almost forgotten Neria was conscripted from the Circle of Magi, and had been an apprentice when Cullen would have been a templar there. In fact, she had left mere weeks before the circle had been attacked if he remembered correctly.

 

“She died right? Killing the archdemon yeah?” Cullen hummed in agreement. “Did you… did you know her?” Carver knew he had to tread carefully, as he may have known her, may have even been close to her. He did not want to reopen emotional gashes, especially as Cullen was limping towards the Gallows, only really standing with Carver’s help.

 

“I did. It’s silly actually I-” Cullen laughed rather lightly considering the somber topic. “I use to have a small crush on her. She was as amazing as people say. Kind hearted, courageous, and beautiful,” Cullen looked lost in thought for a second before he continued to speak. “In the circle, there wasn’t really much anti-elf sentiment. There were of course, a few templars who had grown up on the outside who felt that way, but the mages… all of them had been too young when they came to the circle to have any sort of hatred embedded in them yet, except maybe against the templars. So no one really called her names or anything in fact, Neria was awfully popular…  She was,” his voice stopped mid sentence, as though it had been caught on a hook. It halted for mere seconds, but Carver could already tell this Surana had meant a lot to him.

 

“Truly she was beautiful. Her hair was a blonde almost white color, always in a bun, almost perfect minus two strands hanging from the front. Her eyes they were… blue like Lake Calenhand. Her nose, although it had been broken before she had came to the circle and therefore was slightly crooked, still seemed too set off her features perfectly. The other templars would always chat about her, say rather nasty things but I-” his voice was on the verge of cracking, and Carver couldn’t bare it. “I spoke to her almost daily, she was too lovely to be true. Neria would tell me these interesting facts and stories she had learned, little gossips that circulated throughout the apprentice quarters… those moments they… They always made my day so much better. No matter how many times I had been yelled at that day, or how many fireballs had been hurled at me on ‘accident’,” Cullen’s voice dropped at the last word, making it obvious it hadn’t been accidental. Before making his voice once again soft with admiration.“She was truly beautiful both inside and out.”

 

Cullen spoke with such passion, it made Carver uneasy. His stomach felt like someone had placed a boulder in it, and the boulder was weighing it down. His throat felt rather dry, and though this may have been due to the fact he hadn’t drank anything in awhile, he suspected it didn’t.

 

“I apologize… that was a little too much.” Carver merely shook his head in disagreement. “Are you sure? I just… I haven’t spoken about her to anyone in awhile… haven’t really trusted anyone. I guess near death experiences make you more trustworthy.” They both laughed, _together_ , in sync.

 

It wasn’t a “that was a great joke laugh”, more of a “thank god you’re alive” laugh. Cullen’s was low, but still not as deep as Carver would have imagined his laugh to be. Carver had imagined Cullen’s laugh to be loud, rather throaty. Yet, it was soft and low, like someone was strumming a beautiful tune. Carver could feel as a slight smile ready to come out, something he hadn’t felt in awhile.

 

“Again, thank-”

 

“You’re welcome. You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Carver scowled, and wished he hadn’t right after. But Cullen didn’t seem to notice the scowl, shaking his head and smiling in response.

 

The minutes that followed were as still as an empty forest. Neither of them spoke, nor did anything really happen around them. Carver was embarrassed to admit it, but he knew they were approaching the Gallows, and wished they weren’t. Although Cullen was a limping mess, Carver had enjoied the walk, the chat, and just being around him. So instead of wallowing in the sadness of the night's end, Carver choose to fill the last minutes with conversation.

 

“I was at Ostagar you know. I was with Loghain when-” Carver coughed hoping it would cover the awkwardness of the situation. “When he retreated.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“We didn’t know ya know… I mean yeah we knew the king was…” Carver began to make hand gestures, wanting to convey what they knew without having to admit it. “still fighting yeah? But we just followed Loghain… it was because of fear more than anything… the darkspawn outnumbered us three to one… None of truly were ready to risk our lives… at least not those who I met.” Carver had a naturally booming voice, so realising it had dropped to a volume that could be considered a loud whisper, caused him to almost do a double-take.

 

“I never thought about it like that. When all of that went down I was a templar… Honestly, the first thing I asked when I found out was: “did Warden Surana live?” the answer at that time would be uncertain but unlikely, later a yes. But it goes to show how wrapped I was in my own little world. I didn’t ask about King Calian, nor the then bastard prince, or anyone in between. It was rather selfish of me.” Carver shook his head before Cullen even finished his last sentence.

 

“No it wasn’t. You loved her yeah? or still do… I’m not to sure if you have… I mean I’m not you,” Carver felt his face go red. “Oh Maker I mean-

 

“I got over it… took some time but I did,” Cullen shook his head before laughing another rather soft laugh. “I heard her and King Alistair got together anyway… Maker I know they did... when I was-” Cullen coughed to smooth over the awkward, just as Carver had mere minutes ago, and it caused a smile to begin to creep onto Carver face despite the inappropriate timing. “trapped… I saw her, thought she was an illusion, another demon sent to tempt me. Even began to go on about how far they must’ve dug into my mind in order to find her. The King’s face had been so… jealous I would say. Did not like me one bit…” Carver felt a sort of hard thump in his chest as he realised fully how much he must have cared for her. Cullen had truly been in love… love that may have been unrequited but also may not have been. Carver felt a strange distaste pool in his stomach at the thought of Neria and Cullen together. All he could imagine was a beautiful maiden and her beautiful lover together. _They would have been bloody perfect I bet…_

 

“She truly seems…” Carver took a second to mull over what his word choice would be. He couldn’t figure out why, but he didn’t much like Neria from what he had heard about her. But Carver also did not want to insult her, she had given herself up to save Ferelden, she truly was an admirable woman. “Perfect.” Carver was never good at hiding his emotions, which is why when Cullen spoke again, Carver wasn’t too surprised.

 

“Oh, I’ll stop talking about her. I get wrapped up sometimes… my apologizes.” Carver shook his head, and was about to speak before he realised where they were. The Gallows. Coming to a halt, Cullen turned towards Carver, attempting to hide his pain, although it was obvious.

 

“Thank you again truly… are you sure you don’t want a few sovereigns? You’ve saved my life.” Carver once again shook his head, shocking himself for one of many times again this night. Carver really should take his money, he could use it. But he didn’t want it, Carver truly believed the man was worth more than a few sovereigns, he was priceless, and Carver wasn’t about to (nor did he want to) ask for large sums of money. It wouldn’t be right.

 

“Then at least come see me?” Cullen rubbed his neck rather awkwardly. “Or don’t if you don’t want to… I just like talking to you… maybe I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you.”

 

“I will. I liked talking to you too… and honestly, it’s alright. I don’t need anything yeah?” Carver felt himself staring at Cullen rather intently. Studying his eyes, nose, mouth especially… _Maker’s breath… I saved him for his pretty face and wonderful stories._  They maintained eye contact for a few seconds, neither daring to look away. The only spectator the moon, shining it’s light down just enough so they could see one another's faces. Cullen finally nodded, and Carver was glad he hadn’t spoke. It would have ruined the moment.

 

“Bye Cullen… hopefully I’ll- I will see you again,” Carver said eventually, a full smile on his face. The first one he had since Bethany. Although the thought of her name caused his heart to break, he didn’t feel as guilty this time. Though large amounts of guilt still weighed on his shoulders whenever he thought of her, it was like a tiny bit had been lifted.

 

“You too Carver.” The realization hit Carver hard, Cullen knew his name… remembered it from before. Most people forgot, he had always been the more forgettable sibling out of lovely Bethany and charming Garrett.

 

And suddenly, Carver felt the urge to thank him. Just for existing, for being there. But he kept his lips zipped as Cullen began to walk up the steps towards his lodging.

  
Carver would never admit it, but he felt as though he’d being willing to help Cullen out with anything. Even if it wasn’t in Carver’s benefit. _To be selfless… for him…_ Carver found himself musing over this all the way back to Lowtown.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're at the end, wow damn. I'm pretty honored.
> 
> I would just like to thank both wargoddess & tanukiham they're both amazing authors who made me fall in love with the crack ship you just read (or didn't if you skipped down here). You should really check out their fanfics, and I'm not even saying that bc I owe them credit for my love of this crackship, they really are awesome writers!
> 
> Now as I already said this, but this is my first time uploading a fic.. But that doesn't mean to pull back the punches, I'm ready for all the criticism. Preferably constructive, but whatever floats your boat. Compliments are cool too. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this, and yeah. If you read this ilysm already <3.


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